


Written by Dean Winchester

by orphan_account



Category: Ruby Sparks (2012), Supernatural
Genre: Alterate Universe- Writing, Artist Castiel, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Shy Dean, Writer Dean, lots of fluff, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a struggling author, in need of a draft and inspiration for his next book. On top of all of that, his siblings,  Sam and Adam keep setting him up with random men in an attempt to get him to settle down.<br/>One thing they don't know, however- is that someone's already captured Dean's heart.<br/>He dreams of a blue eyed-eyed man, who wears a trench coat, and is an amazing artist.<br/>The exact opposite of him in every way. </p>
<p>There's just one problem.<br/>He may or may not be a fictional character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written by Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> So, 'ello! The basic idea of this story was taken from the movie, 'Ruby Sparks', which is adorable and stuff.  
> I actually briefly contemplated the idea of making Dean the artist, and Cas the writer... but...

_A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge._

 

_"Have you seen my pencil?"_

_Dean looked up at him oddly, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. God, that voice. Dean could get lost in it._

_"What?" He asked, almost self-consciously, tugging the dark-blue cardigan he was wearing around himself. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Dean said nothing, too busy_

_trying to see the mystery man's face. Had they met before? Did he know him?_

_The shadows of the trees were spread across the man's face, so he couldn't make out much. All he knew was that, whoever he was; he had blue eyes like no one else's and a vo_

_-ice that sounded like gravel._

 

 

Dean bolted upright, twisting in his covers. Oh. A dream. Of course it was. He didn't know any blue-eyed man; he probably didn't exist. Suddenly, his bed was filled with a big furry, body. Han, his massive Golden Retriever licked his face, and whined- pawing at Dean's chest. Wow. "Hey, buddy." He whispered, scratching his head as Han's wet slobbery tongue invaded his face. "G'morning to you too." He gently grabbed his dog's muzzle. "Who's ready for a walk, huh? Does that sound nice?"Han barked an affirmative, bouncing off the bed, and running off.

Dean sighed, and kicked the covers off. Knowing Han, he would probably takes AGES to go to the bathroom.

           -/-/-/-

 

Right.

Writing.

Words.

Dean stared at the blank roll of paper. His fingers hovered over the typewriter's keys, wanting to write something, but unsure what. Han padded over, and lay on his feet, belly up and pleading puppy-eyes on. "Don't give me that look." Dean said grumpily, shaking his head as the dog huffed and got up. Out of the blue, his phone vibrated, and he groaned. Probably Sam. Possibly Adam. Dean picked up the phone. "Hello?"

_"Dean!"_

"Oh- hey, Sammy. What's up?'

_"I'm not disturbing you, am I?"_   Dean cast a look at the still-blank page.

"No, not really."

_"Great, so listen- I'm down at the gym, and I haven't seen you for ages. Could you please come here? Pleaaaase?"_ Dammit, Sam was using his _'Can-I-please-have-the-last-bowl-of-Cap-N-Crunch?'_ voice. He thought he had gotten rid of that voice once Sam hit puberty.

"Sam-"

_"Pleaaaaaase?"_

"Fine. But you're buying me pie later."

_"Deal."_

   -/-/-/-

Treadmills were torture devices from hell, Dean decided. Of course, it was all Sam's fault, he just had to speed up Dean's. The little shit.

"So, what's your deal, Dean?'

"What d'you mean?'

Sam stopped his treadmill, slowing to a walk. "Look, no offense or anything- I am very glad that your career's taken off. I'm thrilled!" He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "But when was the last time you had a relationship?"

"Uhhhh... Lisa."

"3 years ago? Shit, Dean, seriously? Aren't you tired of sleeping alone? Don't you wanna have sex?"

"Shhh" Dean shushed his brother, pointing at an elderly jogger with Beats on. "Language."

"She can't hear me. I'm serious, don't yu miss it?"

Dean huffed, crossing his arms. "Hey! I have sex. I have sex a lot." Sam shook his head. "Sex that occured in the bathroom stalls at the Roadhouse doesn't count."

'Well, there was... you know-" Dean trailed off, running through a list of names of people he had been with. Shit. It HAD been a long time since he'd brought anyone home.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up."

 

_He was seated in a forest, Han at his feet. It was a beautiful day, and Han was draped like a rug over the crunchy, autumn leaves._

_"Excuse me," a voice interrupted the quiet, drawing him out of his stupor. Dean looked up. The guy in front of him was gorgeous. Blue eyes (Yes, those ones.) Dark brown, almost black hair that looked really, really soft. Tan trenchcoat over blue sweater. Stubble. Oh, god. He was just his type. "Do you mind if I draw your dog?"_ _He asked, gesturing to the sketchpad tucked under his arm as he bent down to pat Han's head. "He's beautiful."  
_

_"No," he found himself saying. "Not at all."_

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
